


many things bloom (in the spring)

by empyyrean



Series: seeds & ink [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, M/M, it's never mentioned but bucky owns a tattoo parlor, we love one (1) wanda maximoff in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empyyrean/pseuds/empyyrean
Summary: Bucky would like to ask Sam Wilson on a date. That is, if he could get his shit together long enough to actually talk to him.





	many things bloom (in the spring)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 3 am. the end.

Bucky’s passed the flower shop every morning on his commute to work and still hasn't worked up the courage to go in. _‘This morning will be the one,’_ he always thinks to himself when he spots the bright flowers situated outside and he literally smells the goddamn roses. But he always ends up psyching himself out. He stands a few feet away from the entrance, watching Sam interact with customers and smile that fuckin’ smile and he just...flakes. He turns on his heel and continues his trek to work, berating himself the whole while. By the time he actually gets there, he cuts himself some slack and resolves to do it the next day. And the cycle repeats.

* * *

 Here’s the thing: Sam is ridiculously out of his league. He’s an angel in disguise, sent to simultaneously torment Bucky and be the shining light in his bleak mornings. If they were playing football, Sam would be the quarterback and Bucky would be the guy who mowed the lawn of the stadium at five o'clock in the morning. It's what keeps him from going into the shop and just asking him out. It’s also the source of the crippling anxiety and the fear that Sam could laugh in his face. He probably wouldn't though. He’d let Bucky down real gentle and his rejection would suck even more because he won't be able to hate the guy for being a jerk about it.

“I think you should just suck it up and go in,” Rhodey tells him when they're drinking later that night and he’s bemoaning his fate.

“Jeez, thanks pal, I never considered that,” he snips, grabbing his straw and drinking angrily.

Rhodey just snorts at him. “You look ridiculous.”

Bucky sneers at him. He’s unfazed. “Anyway, what I _meant_ was- you should go in when he's not working, just to get your foot in the door. You’re never gonna get his number if you hover outside like a creepy vampire who can't come in without an invite.”

He hates to admit it, but it's not a terrible idea. It must show on his face that he's considering it because Rhodey smirks and takes a sip of his drink, loudly and obnoxiously. Bucky throws a tiny umbrella at him.

* * *

 He makes it into the store on a Sunday. Sam's not working, he checked before coming. It would be a disaster if Bucky got to the register and stood there like a tongue tied idiot because Sam suddenly emerged from the back. But he doesn't because he's not working, Bucky checked.

Instead, there's a woman behind the counter. She’s got dark brown hair that's greying at the edges and dark brown skin and when Bucky sees her name tag, it reads: _Tracey_.

He makes his way around the store and feels her eyes on him the whole time. He has no idea what to buy; he doesn't even _like_ flowers. He grabs the nearest pot and turns on his heel, bringing it to the register. She looks at him like he's the funniest goddamn thing she's seen in her life and he can't help but shrink under her stare. She's a whole head smaller than him, but there's a twinkle in her eye that says she knows something he doesn't. It makes him jumpy.

She doesn't say anything when she's scanning the pot, but she does look at him expectantly when she's done. When he doesn't say anything, she lets out a little laugh and asks, “You startin’ a garden?”

He looks down at his purchase. Then back at her. “Yup,” he says, much to her amusement.

“With just an empty pot?”

He looks down again. It _is_ an empty pot. “You’re gonna need some soil and seeds, don't’cha think?”

Bucky nods stiffly and she really does laugh at him this time. She points behind him and he whirls around and finds small bags of soil and seed packets on a shelf. Great. He grabs the first two he sees and sets them on the counter. She smirks at him and rings him up. “Good luck plantin’ those inside,” she says, amusement still laced in her tone.

Bucky just nods and turns around to leave. “Oh, and Sam doesn't work on sundays. Just thought you'd like to know.”

He doesn't turn around to give her the satisfaction of seeing his face burn red. He does, however, respond with “I know,” like a goddamn fool before exiting.

Rhodey’s gonna laugh at him again.

* * *

Rhodey does laugh. Loudly and for ten minutes. Then he points out what Bucky was too embarrassed to realize. “But, hey, if she knows about you that means Sam knows about you. The fact that she didn't tell you to never step foot in her store for stalking an employee means he's actually endeared by the baby deer act you've got going on,” He says after _ten minutes_ of laughter.

Bucky is equal parts mortified and relieved.

* * *

 He still goes to the store when Sam’s off. He's thinking about sending all the shit he's buying to Steve in one big package. He's an artist, they go nuts over flowers and shit. Tracey isn't always at the store. There's another girl, early twenties, who has taken to _pestering_ him. Her name’s Wanda and she's got wild curly hair and olive skin and eyes that light up when he opens the door. Bucky would be endeared if every time he walked up to her, she didn't go _‘So, have you actually spoken to Sam yet?’_

Bucky snaps back at her, always good naturedly and she laughs at his responses. He likes her, even if she is a little meddlesome.

* * *

 Bucky hates Wanda. All positive feelings for her curl up in his chest and die two Sundays later. Bucky walks in, expecting to see her because it's nine o'clock and she's supposed to be _working._ Her shift is at eight, every two Sundays and Bucky knows she's supposed to be working.

Instead, Sam's behind the counter in all his glory. He perks up when he hears the bell on the door jingle and his eyes widen when he sees Bucky. Then his expression shifts from surprise to something warmer, maybe even _fondness_ if he’s being hopeful. Sam looks great, but he always does. The way the shop is positioned makes it so that there's a lot of sunlight coming through, for the plants, obviously for the _plants_. And yet somehow, it's as if all beams of light shine through with the sole purpose of making Sam look absolutely ethereal. Then he aims that smile at Bucky, wide enough to showcase his adorable gap. His skin is glowing, his eyes are crinkled warmly and _he's_ shining. It's too much. Bucky’s heart is beating so fast and he feels like he's sweating and Christ, he wasn't ready for this. Sam has to be the one to break the silence because Bucky is doing his best deer caught in headlights impression while racking his brain for something to say. “Hey, how can I help you?” He asks.

The effect Sam's voice has on him is kind of pathetic, which is pretty on par with how he's feeling. It's calm and soft and somehow all of his anxieties are dulled long enough for him to utter something that isn't garbled nonsense. “Hi.”

Too bad it's only one word. Sam’s smile somehow gets brighter and his eyes are filled with mirth. “Hi. Do you need something or are you just browsing?”

It’s a simple question but Bucky can't seem to find the answer that finally puts him out of his misery. He’s talking (barely) to Sam and he wants to be able to say what's been on his mind for months. He doesn't answer soon enough because Sam gets this confused and slightly disappointed look on his face that finally (fucking finally) spurs him into action. “Wouldyouliketogoonadatewithmeormaybegivemeyournumber?”

It all comes out in a rush, like the words were fighting to escape him once he started. Sam’s expression has shifted back to amused. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I'm sorry, could you repeat that?”

He's smiling and his tone spells nothing but trouble. He's teasing, Bucky knows it. But he deserves it, so he takes a deep breath and asks, slower, “Could I take you on a date or maybe get your number?”

Sam laughs and Bucky's heart melts a little bit. “It took you long enough.”

He laughs, albeit shakily while brushing back the hairs on his neck. “Sorry.”

Sam shakes his head and pulls out a pen and a piece of paper. “I get off at four. Here's my number, make sure you actually use it. I don't want to wait another month for you to be tricked into actually talking to me so give me your number too, okay?”

Bucky nods and takes the paper Sam hands to him, clenching it a bit harder than necessary. He hands him the pen and he scribbles down his number while Sam looks on with that smile before taking the paper from his shaking hand. “I'll see you around, Bucky.”

His name has never sounded better.


End file.
